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From: Montreal, Quebec, CANADA
Since last post: 472 days
Last activity: 463 days
|AIM: || ||#1 Posted on 3.11.04 2321.27 |
Reposted on: 3.11.11 2321.27
| Chapter Three: ”It All Falls Apart”|
-It all falls apart?
-Now, wait a minute. I might have wanted you dead or you know badly, badly, badly hurt most when I was eleven, and I didn’t watch wrestling on TV every week growing up, but I would watch now and then, here and there and you were on TV all the time, usually stalking one of the Clancy’s.
-Heh. “Tsss... Tsss... Tsss... This is the Rattler speaking. Happy Thanksgiving, sports fans. You know Thanksgiving is a time of traditions. Family gatherings, turkey, pumpkin pie, football on the TV. Well, sadly the Rattler has no family, and I’m allergic to pumpkin, while turkeys are a foul, bland tasteless impossible to cook disaster and you all know that football is not my sport. I’m not really a team player you see. But the Rattler does believe in tradition and I do have one annual tradition. Every year, I pick a member of the Clancy family and I drag them to the ring and I beat them until they beg for mercy, and it may not be much of a tradition, but it’s mine God Damn it and you will respect it! Tsss... Tsss... Tsss.”
-HEY! I remember that!
-Shouldn’t be hard to remember. I used a variation on that promo for ten years or so, every Fall Brawl.
-Yeah, so if you were around for ten years what’s this about “It all falls apart”?
-Oh, I had a good run. I was the biggest bad guy in wrestling, fighting the Clancy’s and their allies. The biggest problem we ever had was explaining why all the Clancy’s didn’t join up and beat the crap out of me as a team. Actually, we did that once as a storyline in 84... of course it was a trap that I set up.
-Fuck. I remember that episode too. The five Clancy boys decide to lure you to an abandoned warehouse, but when they get you there it turns out that you had planted the idea of the warehouse and four guys with chains step out of the darkness and start whipping the Clancy boys and then one of them hits the cameraman and the camera falls and Rory starts screaming that someone should call 911 and the camera dies and the TV just went blank for a minute and then the TV started playing all these fucking short documentaries about geese and ducks and shit.
-Yeah, that was my idea. I convinced Old Man Clancy that if we went off the air early, people would be convinced that the shit was real. The little nature films were from Canada. When we played that episode, the old man was watching the episode with Charlene and Katy, and ten police cars pour into his driveway convinced that someone is going to attack him next. He had to have each of the boys come to the house to convince the cops to go home. And that took hours because Rory was off on a bender and we had to hit twenty down-east bars before we finally found him and dragged him home.
That episode was the last time that all the Clancy boys were together. Rory got his fool self killed slamming his Camaro into a concrete embankment two weeks before Christmas. Then a month after we do the second annual memorial show for Rory, Donny dies on the plane to Tokyo. People always thought it was drugs, but Donny was clean, well cleanish, you didn’t get that torso without a little bit of help. They have a name for the condition now for getting cramped into seats that are too small for flights that are too long with canned air that’s none too good.
-Now, wait a minute, I thought Donny died last year.
-Oh, they revived him on the plane. He died and they brought him back. But really, they only brought back a ghost. Donny was never really the same afterwards. Before that plane trip, he was a bit of a mad genius at setting up matches and for a guy his size, Christ could he move. But afterwards, you had to walk him through a match step by step and they had to be simple steps.
Then Jacky slips on a rope and falls to the outside and fractures his wrist. He tries to come back too quick, injures the wrist again at the C and F in 87, and the doctor tells him he probably will never wrestle again and if he’s not careful he’ll lose the hand to infection. And he ends up taking an overdose of pain medication before the summer of 87 is over. Accidental or not, no one will ever know, I suppose. August 13th. I can remember the date clearly see, because on that day a year later his twin Jimmy takes a shotgun and blows the back of his head off. Which left just Bill Junior who was always more comfortable working in the production booth and fixing the lights and the sound.
Fortunately, we had that whole Calgary crowd and the guys from Montreal that we picked up when the Canadian version of ESPN starts up called TSN and Old Man Clancy uses his contacts with Budweiser to get him an introduction with Molson and pretty soon he’s got the same deal with TSN only now it’s the Molson Wrestling Hour in Canada. We already had Winnipeg as a territory, it kinda fell into our lap when the old man bought the Minnesota territory out in 83. So, once we started broadcasting in Canada in 84, the old man runs exactly the same dodge that he ran in the States and the dumb bastards fall for it exactly the same way. Well, except for that cagey bastard Cormier in the Maritimes. He insisted on getting all of his money in one lump sum instead of being spread over ten years. Which meant that Clancy ended up spending more for the Maritimes territory than he did for Calgary and Montreal combined.
So, we had replacements for the Clancy’s, but we didn’t have any replacements for me. When I first got to St-Louis, we would do two maybe three shows a week, with most of the shows being wrestled really loose and you would do a tight hard-hitting show about once a month and real balls out show two-three times a year. By 84, we were doing the five big ppvs a year and we were doing five shows a week. By 86, we were doing twelve ppvs a year and we were doing eight shows a week with an A team and a B team doing shows. Somewhere in all of that I get married, I have two kids and I win the heavyweight title on our first show on Canada and I hold it for the better part of three years.
-So, what was the problem?
-Problem, no problem, man. Only, see there are baseball players who can’t play 162 games a year. They need to be rested for playing a kid’s game, for fuck’s sake. I’m out there 300, 320 days a year putting my body on the line, taking bumps. And you get so fucking tired, man. So you end up taking a red pill to get up out of bed in the morning, and a green pill for the pain, and a blue pill for the nausea that the first two pills cause and a yellow pin to pick you back up for your match and a purple pill to party after the show and a black pill so you can sleep at night, and in the morning it starts all over again. Plus, all the free booze you can drink, and I can drink a lot. Then, at the shows, you have the Japanese guys trying to convince you to drink yak’s blood or to drink a tea made from rhino testicles or panda bear livers. Plus the vitamins and the supplements... And then there’s the steroids. Now, fortunately, I never really needed that... much. I mean I was never about the muscles. Snakes are lean and mean. I mean I was always supposed to be the crazy-eyed psycho who sits in the corner of the bar and no one bothers him because he’ll cut your eye out with a spoon and then step on it just to be mean. But, fuck, in a wrestling locker room, not taking steroids is like not smoking weed at a Frank Zappa concert. Even if you’re not smoking so many other people are that you get high just the same. I mean what are you going to do not breathe? And sure you’re on top, but you’re running a hundred miles an hour with your hair on fire just to stay in one place...
And then I blew out my knee.
Next: Chapter Four: "I Blow Out My Knee"
(edited by Llakor on 5.11.04 0115)
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